5.75
My only beef with Ingrid right now is that I don't get to see her enough. I'd like her to pause so I can enjoy more time with five-year-old Ingrid before she turns six. Or sixteen, which we sometimes catch a glimpse of.
This month gave us one of my favorite Ingrid memories of all time. She had her first dance recital, which was cute and she did great and all, but the real gem was dress rehearsal. She was really nervous as I dropped her off at the curtain. I took my seat and watched her class shuffle to the edge of the stage, with Ingrid looking very overwhelmed by all the lights and huge room, and I thought she might cry or refuse to go onstage. And then she straightened up, threw her shoulders back, put her hands on her hips, and straight up pranced to her mark. Not a single other child was prancing. But that's my Ingrid; she doesn't start things with a lot of bluster, but when she decides to do it, she does it.
I'll do a school year roundup eventually, but suffice to say Ingrid had a fantastic year of kindergarten. It's really too bad she can't stay in kindergarten forever. It was such a perfect mix of sweet, friendly, academic, silly earnestness for her. Ingrid really loved working hard and learned a ton of new reading and math skills and did it all in rainbow-colored, crayola-markered delight. She came home from school on the last day and immediately opened up her summer workbooks.
She loves coloring hearts and rainbows, reading Elephant and Piggie books, ice cream, maxi dresses, side ponytails, her cousins and younger siblings, playing elaborate make-believe games with her buddies, and making weird faces in photos.
This month gave us one of my favorite Ingrid memories of all time. She had her first dance recital, which was cute and she did great and all, but the real gem was dress rehearsal. She was really nervous as I dropped her off at the curtain. I took my seat and watched her class shuffle to the edge of the stage, with Ingrid looking very overwhelmed by all the lights and huge room, and I thought she might cry or refuse to go onstage. And then she straightened up, threw her shoulders back, put her hands on her hips, and straight up pranced to her mark. Not a single other child was prancing. But that's my Ingrid; she doesn't start things with a lot of bluster, but when she decides to do it, she does it.
Soccer season kicked off with a soggy first day. Ingrid signed up with her neighbor BFF but then they were assigned to different teams. Ingrid jumped in, undaunted by not knowing anyone. She plays pretty hard during practice but isn't so into the scrimmages. She really doesn't like running into people. Or running for long periods, generally.
She loves coloring hearts and rainbows, reading Elephant and Piggie books, ice cream, maxi dresses, side ponytails, her cousins and younger siblings, playing elaborate make-believe games with her buddies, and making weird faces in photos.
The girls are in dance camp this week, then they're looking forward to a summer of hanging out at the pool and running up and down the street with the crazy girl squad we've got going on our block. Hopefully Ingrid will come home occasionally so I can see her.
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